


Asami Sato, Desperado

by Brackish



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Blood, Bounty Hunters, Cowboys & Cowgirls, F/F, Graphic Description, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-04 16:10:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4144122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brackish/pseuds/Brackish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a.k.a. "Brackish's Action Workshop"</p><p>Many nights ago, Asami fled her father's estate, defying his orders to continue developing his cruel war machines.  She stole into the night, never looking back. </p><p>Hiroshi's madness led to a bounty, fifty-thousand yuans for the reclamation of his daughter, to return to him the secrets of his industry - The price of his own daughter's life.</p><p>So she took a new name, and made a new home in a town on the frontier, a town too wild and dangerous to care for the past of a stranger. Now, weeks later, she lives as a new identity with old memories. </p><p>Meanwhile, somewhere else across the prairie, a stranger finds an old wanted poster, ink fading and layers peeling. As blue eyes trace over the bounty, her lips form a lopsided grin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lamplight.

"Hush, LeMat," Asami said, tugging the reins, urging the horse from the stable. The palomino grunted, irritable from it's interrupted sleep, but begrudgingly obliged, following Asami into the frost-bitten winter night. 

Outside the stable, Asami hitched her lone partner to a small cart, wiping the sweat from her brow. Her breath misted before her, sharp and shallow, hushed, even though she knew no-one would be prowling the grounds at the hour. She turned, looking to the moon, its piercing light high in the night sky. Darkness in the stars signaled clouds, drifting slowly. 

_Another few minutes, maybe less._

The Sato estate loomed under the moon, grand and intimidating. Asami paused, reflecting, pensive.  _Home, no longer._ She cast it from her mind, and slipped to the other side of the stable, to her workshop.

The soft glow of her oil lamp lingered by the door, her reminder of final preparations. Inside, Asami hung her coat on a hook by the door, unhooked the lamp, and strode over to her workbench. 

Papers, parchments, bottles of ink and pens, hurriedly gathered, discarded. Asami rifled through the blueprints, the plans, the recipes, gathering what she deemed important enough to take with her, to ensure none of it would be found, or reclaimed. She swept it all up, stuffing it into a small leather satchel, and hung it with her coat. 

_Father... If not for us, then for the good of the world._

Asami raised her lamp to cast a dim light around the rest of the workshop. Shadows, faint rusted hulks of prototypes and half-finished machines. Sharp, beast-like forms, soulless automatons. Her creations, with another's intentions. 

 _They will all have to go._  

Canisters of lamp-fuel, for the long nights she had spent prior in her workshop, drawing, building, sleeping - They would warm the workshop one last time. Asami strode between her creations, a private moment to forgive herself for the destruction of her own work, before pouring the slick fuel over the silent metal beasts. 

When she was satisfied, she strode to the corner of her shop, to a lone washbasin and mirror to clean her hands. Cold, almost biting waters, took the grease and grime, the oils of her shop from her. She splashed her face, gasping slightly as the water trickled down her blouse. 

She paused, raising the lamp to the mirror. Green eyes met her, staring back into the shop. A blouse, a waistcoat, the least recognizable clothes she could find, of which would be covered by her trench-coat by the door. Beneath the waist, she wore riding leathers.  _For the long ride._ And boots, heavy, but durable.  

Asami sighed. She couldn't put it off any longer.  _It's time._

She returned to the door to don her coat and satchel, and carry her lamp outside. Once more, she looked to the moon, and watched it's silver light become slowly consumed by the clouds, her surreptitious confidants. 

When the last of the moonlight had left, hidden behind the clouds, darkness fell upon the land. In the dark, she held the last light. She turned to her workshop, holding her lamplight high. 

_For the best._

Asami stepped back, and with all her strength, hurled her lamp though the open doors of her workshop. 

She didn't stop to see the blaze - she knew it would burn. She had made sure, careful calculations that it would all go. She turned as the lamp crashed deep inside, and ran. 

When Asami returned to her horse and cart, the fire had caught.

When she had left the estate, the workshop was ablaze.

When the moon had returned to light the land, she was miles away. 

When Hiroshi woke, alert, she was gone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! First off - I know, i know, I haven't updated Nightwatch, but this idea hit me so suddenly that I had to write at least a bit of a scribble! It's extremely rare that I have a moment of enthusiasm and inspiration so powerful, so I had to take advantage of it. Don't worry, Nightwatch is on it's way! 
> 
> This chapter is purely an introduction, and a bit of set-up. Future chapters will be longer (hopefully) with more substance.
> 
> Like Nightwatch, Desperado will also be a bit of a workshop, but with themes revolving around plot, violence, and other aspects such as setting and time-period. Therefore, Desperado will definitely have more of a plot than Nightwatch, and maybe even GDM. 
> 
> In any case, I'll try to balance my time between the two fics currently in progress (and even maybe some snippets for GDM if I feel the inspiration), but I think having multiple projects could be a good thing. If I'm stuck on one, I can just go write something for the other. Right? Sure. Let's go with that. 
> 
> Tags will be added with subsequent chapters.
> 
> As always, again, thanks for reading! Please leave a comment here, or on my tumblr over at  
> citriic.tumblr.com


	2. Cut Short.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asami settles into Hayworth, a small hub for the wild plains. 
> 
> Elsewhere, a stranger finds an old bounty.

_Screams, like a thousand iron claws against a rusted board. She urged her pale shadow forward, gliding across the pitch dark land. An explosion, a cacophony of bellowing roars. Asami didn't dare look back, but the great light erupted behind her, as if the sun itself had risen to chase her. She turned, and the beasts stumbled forth like a landslide. Half-finished contraptions, iron beasts with cruel, jutting blades and cannons clawing from the crumbling building she fled from._

_"No!" Asami screamed. Her horse shrieked, throwing her from her saddle, falling with a thump upon the soft earth. Stumbling to her feet, she watched in horror as her creations crawled towards her, melting in the flame of the workshop. Morbid, misshapen and engulfed in lamplight._

_She held out a hand, as if to save them from the fires, but they ignored her, their iron forms clawed upon the earth, scorching and scratching at the rock and grass, consuming the world around her._

_"Let me help you!"_

_They turned to her, and for a moment, Asami thought they would submit. But again they screamed, and as they did a great flame shot in unison from their mouths. High in the sky, the flames coagulated into a molten visage of her father. Furious, the form swept down, roaring, crashing upon Asami._

_She screamed._

***

Asami woke in a cold sweat, panting deeply, tangled in her covers. _Breathe... Slow... Easy, now...._ The nightmares had come every now and then, but still they haunted her. Asami curled her hand into a fist, and hurled it into the wall beside her. 

 _Well, I'm up now._ With a groan, she swung her legs off the side of her sleeping cot. Creaking floorboards wished her a good morning, as she stumbled through the darkness to the window to see if any semblance of sunlight had deigned to grace her. 

A breaking orange heralded the coming dawn. Asami sighed, resting her forehead against the cold glass of her second story window. The town, though scarce, had enough people to make a lively scene. Across the road, a woman was stringing up a washing line, a basket full of laundry sat propped on her window. Beneath her, on the ground floor, a store manager was tinkering with his lamp, as his wife berated him that it was pointless as the morning would soon come anyway. In an alleyway beside the building, she watched as two stray dogs fought in the dust over a large bone.

The rest of the town moved in sluggish symmetry; men stumbled out of bars, regretting their choices of the night prior. Others saddled up either horses and carriages to tend to their crops and livestock on the ranches and farms near and far, grateful for what harvest the dry, yellow earth would give them. Somewhere, a drunk sang a mournful tune, before being shouted down into silence. 

Asami turned her gaze to the lands beyond the town. Her room stood slightly above the others, so her view reached for miles around.  _Can't complain about a good view._ But the lands around were flat, dry and dusty plains, save for a few patches of yellow-green where the farmhands were still confident. Beyond the town and grass was almost desert, rocks, cactus and dying trees. Far off in the distance, she could see mountains, and a dozen paths that shot out from town. Hayworth was a central location in the wild, but every road led somewhere else you'd rather be.

 _Not much reason for anyone to stay too long._ It was one of the reasons Asami stayed.  

A single train line ran through Hayworth, and beside that there was the dirt road that ran straight through it. Asami's room was on the second floor of the general store in the middle of the town, whose proprietor was kind enough to let her stay, a stranger in the night, and asked no questions of her past. A few carriages and carts trundled along, bringing post or carrying wares from other towns, eager to start their journey at first light, hoping to reach the next before sundown. In the distance, a train whistle pierced the dawn, and Asami turned to watch faint billows of steam and smoke make their way towards Hayworth. 

By the time it had made it into town, and it's participants had dissipated across the platform and into the town, the sun had begun to rise in grandeur. Asami sighed, and left her window. 

Asami's room was humbly furnished to say the least. In the corner opposite the window lay her bed, a recovered military cot, dressed with a thick down pillow and a rugged throw made of stitched furs, padded with woolen patches. It didn't lead to the most comfortable sleeps, but it kept her warm enough. At the foot of her cot was a heavy chest, where Asami kept all of her worldly belongings, other than what she kept on her body. Old notebooks, scraps of paper, things that others would discard in a minute, Asami kept safe. On the opposite side of the room was her one luxury, a deep copper tub and makeshift vanity that someone had left behind, with a cracked mirror and heavy basin. 

 _Best make something of my day._ Asami pulled her dayclothes from her chest; a pair of old belted leather riding boots and dusty buckskin breeches. She grimaced, pulling at her white linen blouse that she had been sleeping in, sniffing it gingerly.  _I miss clean clothes._ She sighed, and tucked it into her pants, cinching it off with a faded snakeskin belt, whose scales had begun to peel. By the doorhook hung the rest of her attire - a black dakota brim hat, and a large brown leather wrap she wore as a cape duster, thicker and warmer than a poncho, whose length hid Asami's hands, should she need a reason to. She donned the rest of her attire, and left her room. 

The staircase creaked under the sure steps of her leather boots. The first floor was a general store, well stocked with enough to supply the town of most of its needs, but never really flourishing due to the limited population of Hayworth. Canned foods, rations, military surplus, grains and wheat. Even a small area for medicines and hygiene, razors, soaps and the like. 

"Morning, Bolin."

The owner peaked his head from behind the counter. 

"Morning!" He replied, chipper. "Just sorting out a crate, don't mind me."

"Need a hand?" 

"No," He pulled the crate with a  _thud_ onto the counter, bottles of whiskey rattling. "That's quite alright." He looked over at Asami, studying her attire. "Heading out so early?"  _  
_

Asami clicked her tongue. "Well, I thought'd it'd be about that time I earned my keep for the month."

Bolin made a noise of disregard. "Please. For saving my hide, you're more than welcome to stay as my guest. Besides, Opal taken a liking to you, which makes you a friend to both of us, and what sort of host would I be if I charged my friends for accommodation?" He slipped his thumbs underneath his suspenders. He wore a simple lined shirt, with brown trousers. Bolin never was one for finery of any sort, but beneath his humble dress was a big-hearted man, and strong to boot.  

Asami smiled. "Well thank you, truly. That's more kindness than I deserve, but still," She turned, staring out the shop front. The streets were beginning to fill with traffic, and the sun had risen a little higher. "I ought to make something of the day. Can't be stayin' cooped up in my room till night."

Bolin chuckled. "Some breakfast, then? Opal's frying up some bacon and eggs that one of the carts rolled in this morning."

Asami's stomach growled. She dipped her hat to hide a blush. "Well, try as I might to decline," She turned to smile at Bolin, "My stomach sure is keen."

Bolin clapped his big hands together, whooping. "I'll count that as a win then! Come on to the back, we've got some time 'til the store opens. Hell, maybe we've got some coffee too."

The two stepped through a doorway behind the counter, through the narrow hallway that connected the front of the store to the back. As they stepped further, the sound of frying eggs and smell of crackling bacon wafted thick in the air, and Asami's hunger grew more intolerable. She wanted to be as little of a burden to her hosts as possible, but even the staunchest monks had to break their fasts occasionally. 

Opal was standing guard over the iron stove, dressed in a white stitched shirt peaking out from rugged denim overalls, one wary eye on the iron pan, the other on the zealous fire that warmed the room. Noticing the two walk in, she closed the stove to tame the fire, and greeted the two by a small table with three stools perched around it. As Bolin and Asami sat themselves down, Opal brought them two cups of boiling brew.

"Morning, Love," She said, planting a peck on Bolin's cheek. "And to you too, Cass."

 _Wh- Oh_ "Morning." Asami replied. She still hadn't gotten used to the name she had given them, and part of her knew she never would. 

"Ahh," Bolin said, smiling broadly. He held the cup Opal had offered him underneath his nose, wafting the steam in distinct pleasure. "I've fallen in love with this smell so many times. Have you tried this stuff?"

Asami nodded, holding the hot cup between her hands, relishing in the warmth. The liquid was pitch black; Asami remembered the coffee she used to drink on the Sato Estate, small bowl of sugar cubes by her side. Sometimes she would take a pot to her workshop, to keep her company her through the sleepless nights. 

Bolin chuckled in amusement. "Well, either you've got a hidden fortune, or coffee's cheap where you came from." Bolin turned to Opal. "Honey, how much was it this time?"

Opal paused, thinking. "The man wanted fourty-three dollars for the bag, but I shouted him down to just shy over thirty. I know how much you love it, so I was going to get it either way, but now we've got a bit extra to hold on to as well." Opal beamed at Bolin, who seemed to find it more revitalizing than the coffee.

As the two sipped their drink, Opal brought over the pan of eggs and bacon, as well as plates and a small chunk of bread. The three tucked into their hearty breakfast over light chatter - it had been a few weeks since Asami had met the couple under the guise of Cassidy, and she had grown to trust them well. But even so, she hadn't yet felt comfortable enough to reveal to them her identity, and the ruse was ever a challenge to maintain, with lie built upon lie.

"So Cass," Bolin said, a mouth full of bread and bacon dripping. "What plans did you have for the day?" 

Asami put her fork down, pondering. "Well, I'm sure the Post Office would have a few odds and ends they'd need sorting out. I thought I'd try there first." 

"Oh, fantastic," Opal said, "While you're there could you see if we have anything in the mail? It'd be nice to hear from our families." Opal passed a look to Bolin.

Bolin put his cup down slowly. "Do, uh," He hesitated. "Do you have any family out there, Cass?"

 _Not anymore._ Asami took her time swallowing her bite to think. They had put her up in their house, given her a bed, offered their trust. It wouldn't be fair to give them cause for concern by being enigmatic. 

"My father died a few months ago."  _Not entirely untrue._

"Oh..." Opal said, a look of sympathy etched across her face. 

"Sorry." Bolin said. "And... your mother?" 

Asami looked up across the table. Her eyes glassy, her mind wandering to a different place. 

"She's somewhere else. Far, far away. I don't think I'll be seeing her anytime soon." 

Asami felt a soft hand atop hers, and looked to see Opal holding her hand. Surprised, Asami shook her head, smiling. 

"It's alright. I've made my peace."  _With one of them._ Asami stood, plucking her hat off the table. "Well, I've only thanks to offer you for breakfast, but hopefully I'll have something else for you by the end of the week."

Bolin waved a hand dismissively. "Cass, I'll tell you a thousand times, you are a guest. But, if you're looking to get to a hard day's work and pay, I won't stop you."

Opal grinned. "You're persistent, Cassidy, if nothing else." 

Asami grinned, and made her leave through the hallway to the front of the shop.  _Good people._

The doorbell  _tinkled_ as she stepped out onto the dusty road, the of which by now had risen high enough to bathe the main road in a dull scorching glow. A few wagons and carriages trundled along to and fro, and about half a dozen horses stood hitched to posts along the main road. The town was alive with the quiet thrum of conversation, with shoppers and traders, men and women stepping in and out of stores, making their work of the day. 

The post office was attached as one half of the train station, atop the platform. Asami whispered a small prayer as she stepped back into the cool shade of the building, out of the morning sun. Somewhere in the distance, a train whistle rang out across the plains.

It was a meager establishment; a few rows of seats for waiting customers, although at the current hour it was empty. Behind the counter sat a elderly woman, thoroughly bored. Behind her were rows of paper, ink pots and pens in small cases. Envelopes and crates of boxes, various lengths of string and rope as well. A few larger typewriters lay about, untouched and forlorn. To her right were cabinets, no doubt filled with letters.

Asami stepped to the counter. "Morning."

"Mornin'" Yawned the lady. She barely made eye-contact with Asami, instead scratching her belly lazily.

"Any mail for the general store?" 

The lady looked up at Asami, eyebrow raised. "You their store-hand or somethin'?"

Asami furrowed her brow. "No. Just a guest."

The lady shrugged. With great effort, she rose from her seat and waddled over to the cabinet, its rusted frame sliding out with a great screech.

"Let's see... a bunch o' letters from the city... here you go." She dropped a half-dozen envelopes of various sizes onto the counter-top, and slumped back into her seat.

"Thanks." Asami said, pocketing the letters. "Anything new on the job board?" 

The other snorted. "Check it yourself."

The community board sat on the wall opposite to the counter, a large framed cork-board with dull red paint, beginning to peel. Residents of Hayworth would pin up odd jobs here and there, anything that they couldn't sort out themselves. Occasionally a messenger from out of town would ride the train into Hayworth, just to advertise jobs in the City, or even occasionally a -

_Bounty._

A large sheet was pinned to the center of the board, covering at least three other messages. It was yellowed with age, and had heavy creases after a hundred folds, maybe more. In the center was a artist's rendition of the suspect, a name, their crime, and their bounty, alive and dead. 

"Barnaby Willis, also known as Bighorn Willis, last spotted at Karkhan's Point... Cattle theft and murder...  _Two-hundred alive, one-hundred dead._ "

Asami unpinned the bounty from the board, and folded it into her pocket, along with the letters. 

 

***

 _I'd better go check on LeMat._ The sun made made good it's rise by now, and most of the town had fallen into a lazy stupor. Carts rolled a bit slower, and folk were more content to lounge on balconies and underneath shade with a cold drink than to toil in the sun. Even the dogs had found place to lazily roll around their masters' feet. 

Asami had hitched her horse in a small barn behind the general store. In reality, it was more of a shed, oft used by Bolin and Opal to store their cart and house their mule whenever they weren't in use, so it had been more than enough room for that purpose. With another horse, it was bordering on cramped. 

LeMat didn't seem to mind, and whinnied playfully when Asami stepped into the shade of the steel walls. Pumping from a tank nearby, Asami watered her palomino, and threw down a bale of hay for both hers and Bolin's mule. 

"We're going to be riding tonight girl. Hope you're ready." Asami said, stroking her partner's pearl mane. LeMat whinnied a response, and Asami smiled.  _Reliable._ She stayed there, in the cool of the shed, watching LeMat until her legs began to cramp. 

By the time Asami stepped back into the store, the sun had begun it's afternoon descent. The bell  _tinkled_ again to note her entry, though the owners were both too busy tending to customers to greet her in their usual joyous manner. Bolin was behind the counter, dealing with a particularly indecisive customer trying to decide on whiskey brands, and Opal was measuring out sacks of grain for an elderly looking woman.  

Asami took of her hat, fanning her heat-flush away. She gazed around, pondering; even in her previous life, she had rarely seen a store so well equipped.  _Perhaps I ought to stock up on supplies before tonight._

She wandered from stand to stand, relishing in the heavy  _thud_ of her leather boots against the floorboards, the soft  _clink_  that the metal clasps of her cape made, the way it flowed behind her. She contemplating what she would need.  _I've no money to pay them. But if I claim the bounty, I can compensate them._

Asami was lost, marveling at an ornate brass spyglass, when she was surprised by Bolin who had seemingly managed to sort out the indecisive whiskey connoisseur.

"A lovely piece, that. Looking to do some spotting?" 

Asami hummed. "Maybe. It's just that it needs a bit of calibrating."

Bolin raised an eyebrow. "How do you know that?"

"O-oh. Um, I mean, ... It seems a bit, blurry."

Bolin took the spyglass from Asami and gazed through it towards Opal. 

"Huh. You're right." 

Asami stared at Bolin nervously, hoping he wouldn't ask further questions.  _I'd better change the subject._

"Bolin," Asami said, gazing around the store. "Do you think... I could borrow some things?"

Bolin looked away from the spyglass, and absent mindedly towards Opal, who was sweeping the front of the store. 

"What do you need?"

"Basic supplies. I've... got a job. Nightwatch, you know..." _Maybe I'll tell him about it some other time._ Bounty hunters didn't afford the best reputation, and the last thing that Asami wanted to do was draw undue attention to her hosts. 

Bolin turned to grin at Asami. "A job? Fantastic! Well, of course!"

Asami paused. "I mean, I'll be paid. So I can pay you when it's done."

"Hm? Oh, of course! Don't worry about it, Cass. What's mine is yours."

 _How does this man stay in business._ Asami followed Bolin's gaze to Opal, and somehow she felt that there was a cunning to Opal that many did not immediately realize. 

"So," Bolin said. "What do you need again?" 

"A few things," Asami said, walking slowly around. There were barrels of apples, spare clothes and boots, belts and hats. Medical supplies, nets, tools and hardware, stable things and horseshoes. 

But out of the corner, Asami eyed a small wooden box, with the outline of a pair of scissors etched into it's surface. Unconsciously she ran her fingers through her hair. 

"One more thing, Bolin. Do you mind if I run some hot water?"

***

An hour later, Asami returned to her room with one arm laden with the small brown box and a towel, and a large bucket of boiling water in the other. Slung upon her back was a light rucksack that held rations and basic tools, which she threw lazily onto her cot. Those would be for later - for now, Asami had something else she had to do, and had been meaning to do for some time. 

Though the afternoon sun had still a few hours to burn, Asami lit a lamp and slung it over her vanity. She sighed at her reflection in the fractured mirror, turning her face from side to side, a hand running fingers behind each ear, watching her hair sway in synchronous flow. She threaded through her silk, clutching at clumps and knots that the dry prairie air had grown. It was a long time coming, and she had been trying to rationalize it for weeks.  _It'll make me less conspicuous. It'll be easier to keep clean. It won't get me caught up in a fight._

_Can't put it off any longer._

Asami stepped back to her door, and bolted it shut, unclasping her cape and hanging it and her hat upon the doorhook. Returning to her Vanity, she slowly emptied the boiling water into the copper basin, and set the steaming bucket aside. Slowly, she unbuttoned her blouse, feeling the hot afternoon air lick at her naked torso as she peeled it from her body, sweaty and slick. That too she threw to her cot, and stood before the vanity, stripped to the waist, dressed in naught but her breeches and boots. 

She pulled the wooden box forward, and unclasped its hinges. Inside was a pair of thin scissors, bronze and sharp. underneath that was a straight razor and several blades, glistening sharp, dancing silver in the lamplight. She pulled the scissors from the box, and with only the briefest of hesitation, set to work. 

She began from the right, pulling bundles of hair forward to meet the blades. She winced at the first snip, the first handful of hair that came free. She held it before her, staring at the bundle of midnight black she held in her hand, before shaking the feeling from her, and tossing it into the bucket. The next came easier, more determined. She scarcely paused to check her work in the mirror, partially to keep her focused, and partially from fear. 

When she cut her last bundle, she ran her hands through her work, cleaning and cutting whatever she felt remained of her length. By the time she looked up, the sun had almost slipped beneath the horizon. 

A sharp gasp escaped her lips, as a stranger gazed back out at her from behind the glass, green eyes wide. She ran her hand over the front, where her hair used to cause her endless hours of grief, to find it short and sharp, buzzed and tapered to a point. She turned to the left, sharp patches peaked here and there, and on the right, very much the same. Her hands moved to the back of her head, to feel the cut hairs bristle against her palms. For a moment, Asami felt like she had made a horrible mistake, until she burst out laughing. 

_Well. Honestly, it looks... alright._

Asami pulled the straight handle from the box, and slid in a razor with a soft  _click._ She turned from side to side, pulling her skin taut, and slowly shaved the edges that were too short for the scissors, behind her ears, down the nape of her neck. A few minutes later, she placed her tools back in their case, and paused to reflect on her handiwork. A cleaner cut, but the best she could do with what she had; barely an inch remained.  _  
_

_A completely different person._ Asami smiled, and the other returned it. She watched her reflection turn, admiring her finesse, savoring the foreign sensation of the cool afternoon air breaking through buzzed hair to run along her scalp.  _I could get used to this._

When she was done, she dipped her towel in the basin, now filled with lukewarm water, and slowly cleaned herself of any stray strands of hair. She brushed and wiped down her shoulders and arms, taking a moment to trace a tan-line that had formed along her collar. She wiped down her breasts and stomach, but felt too lazy to undo her breeches. When Asami had cleaned up and redressed herself, she sat down on her bed, staring out her window. The sun had dipped, leaving the sky a dull orange and purple haze. 

After a while of admiring the setting sky, Asami turn to open her chest, and pulled from it a small metal case, just over a foot in length. She set it next to her on her cot, and flicked the clasps open, to reveal a black single-action revolver, a weapon of her own design. 

_My work. What father would have used for greed, I will only use for a just cause._

She traced the barrel with her finger, the dull sheen of the black metal, cold to the touch. She pulled it from its case, and ran a hand over the chamber, delighting in the precision of each  _click_ as it turned. 

A fear crept into her, a nervous and hesitant grip tightened her chest. She had fired her weapons before, but something felt different. She glared at the gun, the lamplight's malicious glow filled her mind with dark and dreadful thoughts. 

_It's where I am now._

She cast the thoughts from her mind, and pulled a tin box that rattled with bullets. One by one, she loaded her gun. 

 

***

Many a mile away, on the other side of the plains, a stranger rode her white stallion into a different city, with another figure strung upon the horse's back. She rode with determination, ignoring the looks of the townsfolk who stared in amazement of the bounty hunter, ignoring the whispers they spat behind their hands. 

At the end of the road was the Sheriff's Office, largest building in the city, it's high brick walls pockmarked with windows of iron bars. Before the entrance stood another woman, tall and gaunt, dressed in a duster, a three-lined scar upon her cheek. 

The rider slowed to a stop before the other, dipping her hat in acknowledgement, hopping off her horse. 

"Whoa, Naga," the rider said, calming her partner, more beast than horse. The horse was large, and stronger than most. 

The sheriff walked to inspect the figure tied to the horses back. "This him then?"

The rider slapped the figure on the hind, who muffled a groan. "Yup. Tried to run, so I put one through his leg. He won't be going anywhere, anytime soon." The sheriff snorted, and waved for two guards from the building to move the prisoner into a cell. 

"So," The rider said, hitching her horse, "Who's next?" 

"Next?" The sheriff said, following the guards back into the building. She spoke with a gruff voice, one that spoke of experience and many years of living on the wild. 

"Well, yeah." The rider said, jogging to keep up with the long strides of the sheriff. Inside, the building was hustling with guards and patrolmen walking to and from, sorting the armory and shuffling prisoners from cell to cell, ornate rows of wooden desks with typewriters  _clicking_  and  _clacking_ as dozens of reports were being inked with each passing minute.

"There is  _no next._ Thanks to you." The sheriff took her seat behind the largest and most central desk, reclining to yawn, absently scratching her scar. "That's it. Not another bounty."

It was the rider's turn to scoff, crossing her arms. "So much for the wild west." She leaned forward. "C'mon Lin, there's gotta be something. Otherwise, what am I going to do?" 

"You could find a job in the city."

The rider laughed. "What, as some saloon bitch? A farmhand? Fuck  _that._ This city is infested with all manner of scum, probably more than all I've put away." 

The sheriff leaned forward to gaze at her energetic charge. "Hmph. Well, we have some cold bounties; ones that most have given up on." She pulled a stack of old papers from her drawer. The papers were peeling, torn or barely legible, faded from time. "Most think them already dead, or false. Either way, you're welcome to look through them. Hell, if you find even a single one, I'll be goddamn surprised." 

The sheriff stood, leaving the rider to peruse the stack of old bounties. She flicked through them, idle and bored, each sounding either unlikely to be real, too far to bother, or with a bounty so small and a crime so innocuous that she'd wager the ink and paper printed were probably worth more. 

Until a handsome fee piqued her intrigue. 

"Well shit, what do we have here." She raised the faded paper to the light, the dull glow of electric bulbs flickering the image to life. "Fifty-thousand...  _Asami Sato,_ for the price of betrayal and intellectual theft." The rider snorted. "Alive or dead, last seen heading west." 

 _Well, I've got fuck all else to do._ _Let's find ourselves a Sato._

The rider grinned to herself, a lop-sided smile beneath razor blue eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Thanks so much for reading!  
> I've been terribly busy, settling back into work after my trip and all that, but i'm so glad I found some time to get around and writing another chapter. And, if you happen to be a fan of Nightwatch, I can promise you another chapter for that will come out soon too! I just hope that I won't fall ill anytime soon (though it would give me a reason to stay home and write).
> 
> Now, I'm no expert on Westerns, so no doubt i'll end up getting somethings wrong, so if you have any critiques please let me know! 
> 
> As always, please leave a comment down here or over on my tumblr (citriic.tumblr.com)! I'll be updating it a few more times over the next few days, so don't get too excited if you see it pop up again! I'll also be updating tags and the like. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Broken Dawn.

* * *

~ **K** ~

In the wake of industry, the Forefather's grand plans for Republic City were quickly realized, growing it to be a great beacon of establishment for the Wild West. Paths of dust were paved with stone, and Republic City was one of the first to witness the wondrous marvel of electricity. But despite all its accomplishments, the noble city still grew in the West, and the West that it was born to was cruel and savage. Soon, the less than noble sections of the world had found their way to corrupt and strangle the wholesome nature from the city the forefathers had first envisaged.

It started small with unlicensed distilleries and extortion, bandits from the outlying lands coming to try their luck at making something bigger, and better. Then the underground began to grow, and soon it eclipsed the world it grew under. Invisible wars were held, and lost in Republic City, and more often than not the innocents paid the collateral. Soon, one way or another, the people of Republic City realized that in the West, there were no innocents. You either left, or you survived. 

But a time came that a diligent few stood up against the rotten core of Republic City, sending it and many of its inhabitants to oblivion. Yet, though much of it is at least safer to walk, the City bears many scars of its past. Gambling dens litter the poorer districts, operating legitimately despite many a soul entering rich and leaving much less than. The vices of mortal men and women would still be sampled, if at least under hushed whispers, and even the wealthy and successful would now be found at taverns fine and forlorn, enjoying refreshment at any hour of the day. 

In fact, it was one of these saloon that a certain bounty hunter had just stepped into. As the morning broke over Republic City, Korra stepped into a darkened building, in a quiet, rougher corner of Republic City, clutching a rolled-up bounty for one _Asami Sato._  

The way you told whether a place was for the wealthy, or for the less-than, was by what you stood on when you walked into the building. Stone and marbles betrayed the richer folk, as it took a lot of monetary persuasion to convince a bunch of workers to haul rocks far out into the West for your aesthetic pleasure. Metal sheeting told you either it was a place of industry, or that you had something underneath you wanted to hide. Wooden floorboards said something similar about secrecy beneath the floor, but also that you were more scrupulous with your spending. 

Floorboards creaked as Korra stepped deeper into the saloon, eyeing weary patrons that blinked up at the burst of dull, morning light from the doorway. She sniffed at the air, dry, musty, clouded with a faint haze that told her that the taps by the bar were probably being stocked with home-brew. 

She saw a lone figure in the back, collapsed over a solitary table, half-hidden behind a pillar supporting the second floor. A fading candle illuminated a dark, red scarf. Korra smirked to herself, and marched over. 

"Shit Mako, sorry," Korra said loudly. "I hope I'm not interrupting your personal time with all your friends."

The figure stirred, clutching at a empty tankard. "... There's no-one else here, Korra." Mako grumbled, unable to lift his head.

"Exactly, you lonely bastard." Korra slammed a fist onto the wood, splintering it's edges and shocking Mako, who sat straight up. He crinkled his brow, eyes bloodshot, rubbing his temples in anguish. 

"Fuck, Korra, why do you do this to me?"

"You do this to yourself. When we brought back the last bounty, you're the one who slinked off to this pissbucket." Korra gave a half-apologetic look to the bartender, who had been eyeing her wearily.

Korra continued. "Anyway, I've got some good news. We're going to see your brother."

"Bo?" Mako said, eyes open. "Why?"

"Seems like you and I have cleaned up RC," Korra said, shrugging. "For now anyway. Until the next load of earnest crims decide to have another shot at the tamed frontier."

Korra smoothed out the rolled bounty, leaning the flickering candle to shed some light.

"So here's an out of town bounty. Way I see it, I could either stay in RC, bored shitless, while you drink yourself six feet under, or we could take a bit of a trip, visit your brother, and snag ourselves a pretty little bonus."

Mako scratched what few bristles that deigned to sprout from his chin. "What makes you so sure that Sato will be out that way?"

Korra shrugged. "It's the most central place out West, and if what I heard about them Sato's is true, then there's no way this one is running East. Way I figure, if I was on the run, I'd make my first stop there, pick up some supplies, and stay put for a couple of days while I plan out my next move. Your brother owns the only shop in Hayworth that sells supplies needed to flee, so if she passed through, he'd have seen her for sure."

"And besides," Korra said, fingering her holster. "We're talking about a runaway  _heiress._ "Korra scoffed. "Some stuck-up, rich, pretty-girl? If she's still alive out there, this'll be  _easy_ money." 

Mako gave one final glance at his empty tankard, and sighed heavily, gathering up his duster and rising to stand beside Korra.

"So when do we leave?"

Korra folded up the bounty, and stowed it in her jacket. 

"Soon. Go get our horses stocked and watered. I need to go see Tenzin."

 

* * *

 ~ **K** ~

Tenzin's temple was a quiet establishment, built by the docks and seldom frequented, save for the devout few and the truly desperate. Religion in the Wild West was as relentless as its inhabitants, and many went to whatever deities that they thought would listen to them. 

Part home, part shrine, it was modest but homely. From the outside, it looked much like any other warehouse along the shore, but inside the building was lined with bronze and wax, candles, statues, and scroll upon scroll of forgotten histories and texts. In the back was where Tenzin and his family made their home, and out front was where he held sermons, studied his faith, and went about his business. 

It was still dark, and the sun was breaking over the waters, when Korra pushed through the great wooden doors, and stepped into the familiar scent of incense and powders. 

At the opposite end of the hall, Tenzin sat cross legged, draped in a black preacher cloak that sheltered his warm, brighter monk's garb. Korra moved past pews, ornate pewter and granite statues, deeper along the building, to pause behind Tenzin while she waited for him to finish his prayers. 

It wasn't long before Tenzin spoke up. "It's good to see you safe, Korra. I trust you accomplished your mission?"

"Sure did." Korra said. 

Tenzin sighed. "And back here so soon."

"The wicked don't rest," Korra said. "So neither should I."

"And who was so cruel as to put this duty upon your shoulders?"

"I did." Korra said, unable to hold back a slight irritation.

Tenzin must have noticed, for he turned, standing to face Korra. He was a tall man, taller than most in fact, aged but surprisingly spry. He was bald, but had been blessed with a strong beard. Scars ran along the length of his skull, faded and pink. Tenzin made no effort to hide them, but few found the courage to ask. 

"It seems you're determined. Let us begin - I'd hate to keep you from your _duty_."

A slight pang of guilt shot through Korra, but she muffled the sensation and moved to stand beside Tenzin on the raised platform from where Tenzin prayed and spoke to the masses, on the rare occasion they came. They knelt to face each other, basked in the shadow of the statue that captured Tenzin's focus just moments prior. He extended wizened hands, signalling Korra to do the same, and took her hands in his, closing his eyes.

"A beacon of light, in a dark sea." Tenzin said, softly. "Guide her. Protect her. Let her go, and let her return, safe. Though she may bring death, give her wisdom, so her judgments may be righteous."

Tenzin released his hold of Korra's hands, and gestured an empty palm to the space of ground between them. Korra reached inside her jacket, removing four sidearms, six-shooters, each jet-black and elegantly engraved, lining them in a row in front of Tenzin. He reached deep within his robes to pull forth vials, no longer than a finger. 

"Sacred waters, purified by flame, silt from the hands of holy, breath of life, to sanctify that which may steal the life's breath of another."

Tenzin uncorked a vial, pouring its contents into a small scrap of silken cloth, and marked each weapon with a blessing. When it was done, Tenzin placed his hands together in silent prayer, and Korra did the same. She never knew what to say during these quiet moments, but in a way it felt that no words were necessary. If there was a God, they would know what she wanted, what she needed, and would decide whether she was going to get it whether she asked or not. 

When they broke their prayer, Tenzin was watching Korra in quiet contemplation. 

"You don't have to do this, Korra. You can stay with us, like you once did, when you came to this land."

Korra looked down, unable to meet Tenzin's gaze. Quietly,she replaced her iron in her holsters, two on each side. 

"You know I can't do that Tenzin. I've made this choice."

"I know." Tenzin sighed. "But I will try each and every time."

"What makes you think I might change my mind?"

"Because you keep coming back."

"Hmph."

"Good luck, Korra. Stay safe. We will wait for you."

Korra rose with Tenzin, and embraced him in a deep hug, before leaving without another word, without another glance. Mako was outside, leaning against the side of the building, a rolled cigarette hanging loosely from his lips.

"There you are. All done?"

"Yeah."

"If you don't mind me asking," Mako said, walking Korra over to their saddled horses. "Why do you keep coming back here?"

Korra pondered his question as she mounted her white stallion. Supplies were strapped to it's hind - as soon as she was ready, they would start for Hayworth, the Wild Frontier. 

"It's the West, Mako." Korra said, turning her gaze to the horizon. "You have to worry about what's coming for all these lost souls."

Mako gave Korra an inquisitive look as he reined his horse beside Korra. "He prays for the people we hunt?"

Korra turned her razor-blue eyes to Mako. 

"He prays for me too, Mako. Out there, we're all lost."

 

* * *

 ~ **A** ~

Out west, an hours ride from Hayworth, the sun had still a few hours to rise. Asami ran a hand over her skull, grimacing as she felt the beginning of bristles.  _It's growing back already._

The dusty expanse of Hayworth's neighboring prairie spread out before her, flat but for rocks and cactus, the occasional dead or dying tree littering the landscape. If the moonlight was good, a rider could see for miles, or at least until the basin ridge cliffs. Asami could just about make out the tens, possibly hundreds of well-worn tracks made by a thousand hoof-falls and carriage routes snake through the country to other, more desirable lands. 

Asami pulled a faded map from a pouch slung across her horse, and spread it out best she could on the back of her horse's neck. Though the moon was high, the pale light served poorly as a reading aide, and Asami flicked her lighter ablaze, it's dancing flame illuminating the weathered parchment. Tracing her path, she saw Karkhan's Point, a thin gap where two short ridges met, a small distance away. 

_I'm close. Best continue on foot._

She gathered what she needed, a length of rope, her leather wrap, and her sidearm, and with a reassuring whisper to LeMat, she set off towards Karkhan's point. She felt the cold night's air sweep down from the ridges, to glide over the valley, no doubt planning to raise dust devils and retake the open plains. Asami ignored them the best she could, huddling herself in her wrap, determined on her hunt. 

It wasn't a long walk, before Asami saw a flicker in the distance, of lamplight, radiate from Karkhan's Point. She fell to a crouched walk, hurriedly moving from rock to rock, heart thumping in her chest. As she moved closer, she saw a carriage, battered and beat, ransacked with doors strewn open and one wheel barely hanging onto it's axle. 

Up close, Karkhan's Point was a small inlet in the face of the ridge-wall, a little more than fifteen feet across. The light came from a small fire, flickering with vitality, hungrily consuming what dry tinder it's creator had gathered. It took a moment for Asami's vision to adjust to the brightness, but when it did she saw two figures, one rummaging through a small chest, and another tied up, a hood upon it's head, lying limp beside the flames. 

_Bighorn. It has to be._

Asami could feel her heart ready to burst from her chest. Her hands began to sweat, head cold with the night's chill. She closed her eyes, willing herself to be bold, to be brave, but before she made a move, her target rose from his seat, and moved to inspect his hostage.

The bound figure was wriggling, muffled cries still audible from it's hooded face. 

"Stay still, you runt!" 

Willis kicked at the figure, turning cries to groans, anguished pain. Unsatisfied with the change, Willis bent down to rip the hood from his captive. He growled at the bound, bruised man, who paled in the flickering firelight, shrinking before Bighorn Willis. 

"I should'a done you in like yer wife! Ain't nobody gon' pay a rans'm fer your sorry ass."

Willis slapped the hostage across the face, and for a moment the man seemed to pass out, before being shaken vigorously by Willis. The brute of a man laughed, taunting his prey mercilessly. Asami's eyes widened as she watched the helpless man struggle against the weight of Willis. 

"I'm done. Yer nothin' but a sack o' meat for the coyotes now, boy." Willis pulled a rusted shooter from his fat waist, and pressed it against the temple of the bound man. 

"No!" Asami yelled, bursting from behind her cover. 

_Foolish._

In the hall of stone that was Karkhan's Point the gunshot cracked like lightning, echoing through the ridge, dissipating into the prairie. Asami froze in her place, hand reached out for the stranger's life that she was too late to save.

What was left of the man's face was a horrid mess. His skin hung loose, palin, eyes bulged forth from the shattered cheekbone and ripped flesh, and a disturbing amount of blood seeped from the wound, staining the dust and sand. Cold sweat beaded from her forehead, and every instinct told her to run, to flee, to return to LeMat and chase the falling moon. 

But she didn't. Asami watched as Willis turned, realizing a stranger's voice had cried at the moment of impact, his beady, hateful eyes falling upon Asami, a foul, loathsome, fetid grin spreading over his unkempt appearance. 

"Ohh, we lookie here. We've got some company. What are you doin' all alone this far from town, boy?"

 _Get your gun._ A whisper, in ears still ringing.

"Wait... Yer no boy." His grin widened. "You come lookin' for me, girlie? You looking for  _Bighorn_  Willis?"

 _Get. Your gun._  A hushed voice, urgent and urging. Willis began to stride over to Asami, heavy footfalls kicking dust. Asam's handles trembled under her cloak, and a far off voice screamed at her to act. 

"Did you know this poor soul, girl?" Willis pointed a blunt thumb over his shoulder. "Maybe you was his  _slut on the side?_ Now ain't that just  _romantic._ " 

_Now. Now!_

"But now, you're gonn' be one o' Willis' -"

Asami's hand shot out from under her wrap, steel flashing in the eerie light of the crackling fire. Asami felt as though her hand should be trembling, but her aim was dead and true, pointed straight between Willis' beady little eyes. The brute froze, a look of surprise upon his turgid visage.

"Woah. Damn, bitch." Were the last words of Bighorn Willis.

Again, a crack of thunder, tearing at the air, ripped through Karkhan's Point. A daze consumed Asami. Faint and fatigued, an unshakable chill set into her that no fire could snuff out. She could hear her breath in her ears, the blood coursing through her veins, her heart ripping through her chest.

_C-calm.... Calm. Calm. Calm._

Asami's world moved in greyscale, numb and muted. Only vivid snippets remained, of retching by the fire, of sitting in a chill until the dawn began to break, of clutching her still smoking revolver, a chamber empty. 

And then her voice came back to her. 

"Well." Asami said to herself quietly. "Nothing else to be done."

Hands, stilled from determination, found the sack that recently departed Willis has strung over his other hostage, and pulled it down what remained of Willis' face.  _Fortunately, they'll still be able to recognize him._ The though churned her stomach, but little remained to retch. 

It was as if a fog had set upon Asami's mind. Asami wouldn't be able to quite retell how she had pulled the carriage that Willis' had ransacked, or how she had reinforced the loose wheel with her cord of rope, intended to capture her bounty alive.

All she knew was that by the time her senses returned to her, and colour began to fill the flats again, that it was morning, the sun was making steady rise, and that LeMat was pulling a carriage that didn't belong to her, with the body of a dead man inside, riding back for Hayworth. 

 _Well done_. 

Though her gaze was ghastly, and her emerald eyes contained worry and shock, Asami couldn't help but smirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my stars! I hope you enjoyed this one :) I don't know what got into me, another flash of inspiration I suppose - so soon after a recent update! Well, if you'd like to leave a comment, please do - I read and reply to them all. If you want to ask me something on Tumblr, please do so! (citriic.tumblr.com)
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Like Nightwatch, Desperado is a workshop, but with themes revolving around plot, violence, and other aspects such as setting and time-period. 
> 
> Tags will be added with subsequent chapters.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! Please leave a comment here, or on my tumblr over at  
> citriic.tumblr.com


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